So That I Don't Forget
by Moonsilver Blade
Summary: The promise of a future is something that isn't easy to forget - nor is it something to be taken for granted. So in the face of the untamed threat that the future holds, how does humanity stop repeating the mistakes of its past and move forwards to accept what has happened? Post LR AU. Eventual HxL. M for language and themes.
1. The Other Side of the Boundary

**Long form, folks!**

**It's been awhile since I've written anything substantial. TL;DR? I've started dentistry school and am busier than ever—but it's finally time for some downtime. I've started my clinic run, which means no more studying, no more exams (for now) and that means I get to return to the idea that started over a year ago; when I played LR in Japanese. **

**I've always wanted to do this particular fic, and it's going to be a little shorter than my other completed ones (If you're following **_**Trembling World**_** still, don't worry, I've got plans to finish that as well) but I'm excited. I don't quite know yet how everything is going to pan out, so there's a little bit of the unknown in here, but I'm still excited.**

**Square didn't give us many details about the epilogue of LR, which is where I'll pick up, so for the things I've imagined, you're going to have to bear with me. I don't want to lay them out bread and butter here one by one, but, I figure you'd appreciate some backstory.**

**- Square has stated that Hope returned to his "adult" age, so I'm going with that.  
>- I've no idea what calendars and such exist (and it's not <strong>_**too**_** important to the story anyways) but I've gone ahead and used the calendar we're all familiar with.  
>- I also haven't revived everybody, as Square said we did at the end of the game, but I don't think the characters I leave out are anybody of importance. <strong>

**The rest of the background, I'll have to let the story tell itself, so, here goes nothing!**

**Disclaimer:**_**Final Fantasy XIII belongs to Square Enix, and is always happily returned at least partially intact!**_

**Reviews/constructive criticism is appreciated as always, and I hope to see you all soon. (:**

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><p><span>Chapter One: The Other Side of the Boundary<span>

_March, CE 2_

Despite the cool wind, it was almost as though winter had never come. The brown grasses were beginning to turn green again, and rain was starting to fill the crater like scars that giant talons had left in the earth. But the wind also blew the smell of ash and dust, and Lightning coughed into the dull scarf before tightening her hands around her shovel.

The ash mixed with the remaining piles of snow was disorientating, as though she lived in a world of grey. But that wasn't necessarily true, as she reflected; the world that she'd first seen was green, the colour of summer grass and what she'd come to associate with the promise of a future—and hope.

But that greenness didn't last very long. It wasn't long before their settlement of the new planet had brought unwelcome change. Or rather, _they'd_ been the unwelcome change. She supposed it probably hadn't been completely unexpected. _Trust the damned god to throw a wrench in our plans when he figured he was going to lose. _They weren't alone. And just like the first time civilization had populated Pulse, this was much the same.

But the differences were deadly.

The summer that they'd landed had been peaceful, largely because most people had been too afraid to wander far from the small pockets of civilization. But when autumn came, and resources around the tiny towns had been exhausted, a few adventurous immigrants had gone hunting in search of new ways to sustain themselves. What they'd found—or rather, what found them—hadn't been pleasant at all.

Out of the northern mountain ranges swarmed dark parasites that had attacked like a nest of angry wasps when disturbed. Feeding exclusively off human life, they'd quickly caused panic and terror to arise in the small seeds of civilization that they'd managed to plant.

Intelligence had quickly dubbed them _Drasil_, after the tree of light that had sustained the dying world's last days. Numerous religious sects believed that the Drasil had come as punishment for the misdeeds that humanity had committed in the final days.

_That's a load of garbage. _Lightning didn't believe in their beliefs for one heartbeat—not that she had patience for the crazy nutters that roamed up and down the streets every morning, shouting the most idiotic things she'd ever heard. _If they wanted to help, they wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing. _

_No one said this was going to be easy._

At the time, it had sounded wonderful—a new world without gods, without magic, without the timelessness that had held humanity still for five hundred years. But she had never expected it to be simple, and Lightning was tired of the complaints she heard every day, as though the dissenters had expected it to be that simple. _Did they think we were going to wake up in a world already built for us? _

That thought made her angry. _If we're going to survive, we'll still have to fight for it._

Fighting itself had been a different issue. She'd kept away from the hastily put-together militia, and kept her head down. She didn't go out without a hood and a scarf to cover most of her head and face, afraid that people would recognize her from _somewhere. _When Serah had asked about it, she hadn't had an answer. She'd told her sister it was because she didn't want the attention, but deep down it was more than that.

She hated to admit it, but Lightning was afraid—in a way she'd never been afraid before—of the responsibility that might come to fall on her shoulders. She was afraid to have to be the one to make things right. _What if it's my fault all those people have died? _It was a gnawing fear that she usually managed to push away, but a vulnerability nonetheless. She didn't want to have to lead anyone again. _That's done. I just… want to be a regular person. Is that selfish? _

But whether or not her sister agreed with her, and whether or not Serah had her own misgivings, Lightning avoided the small chain of command that had been set up like the plague. _Instead, I get to be here, digging out the ashes left by the last few firebombs. _She knew Serah didn't exactly approve, but her sister had kept quiet—most of the time. She also knew that Serah had spent the last few months silently pondering the changes that had come over her, and wanted an explanation, but Lightning wasn't sure she wanted to share that part of herself just yet. _Even to Serah. _

_I just don't think she understands._

She returned most of her attention back to digging. She had to admit whoever had come up with the idea had been smart: the Drasil were vulnerable to flame, so it made sense to throw crude explosives at it. A group of smaller Drasil could probably be handled with conventional weapons alone; even the shovel she had in her hands was probably enough to take one out. The problem was that not all drasil were the same size, and when one the size of several houses put together decided to attack a settlement it was harder to stop. The last one had come a little too close for Command's liking, and the higher ups there had ordered the bombing. _It would have been a_ _nice idea if we didn't take out one of the smaller settlements in the process. _Intelligence had argued that everyone in the settlement was dead anyways—it wasn't like the Drasil were merciful—but Lightning wasn't sure if she agreed. However, since she wasn't part of the chain of command, and as far as they were aware, just a civil worker, she had to follow her instructions when the fires finally burnt out and come digging through the ashes left behind.

_Wonderful._

She briefly wondered how long Command thought they could keep this up. Every time there was a drasil attack, more people were injured, and more people died. She wasn't in any position to question them, but anyone could see that there needed to be a solution—and soon. The tension around town was akin to the subdued quiet of cattle headed for the chopping block.

A brief ray of sunshine poked it way around the overcast sky, sending small refractions of bright light from the remaining piles of snow. _Something needs to change. Soon. _Shifting through the grey dirt, she coughed again when a gust of wind blew a puff of ash into her face. It wasn't a smell, or a taste, that could be gotten rid of easily and Lightning could've sworn it took ages for her to wash off. Even after spending half an hour at the small sink she had back home, she could swear that still more of it clung to her skin. _Fire and death. That's all that's left here._

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><p>It was late in the afternoon when most of the horse drawn carts were full. She was careful to avoid eye contact with the one that held the corpses that someone would have to bury back in the main part of town, and she didn't envy the people that would have to do it. Hoisting the shovel onto her shoulder, she lined up with the rest of the workers by the south of the settlement ruins. The line moved slowly as the workers dropped off their tools and collected their earnings. Out of habit, she kept her head down; even out here, there was a chance that someone would recognize her and Lightning found herself staring at her ash-stained hands.<p>

For some reason, the sight made her nostalgic, but only slightly. She couldn't say that she would miss the days that they looked otherwise, but for the umpteenth time since that first fight with the Drasil, she wished things could've been different. _If only we had come to a world that isn't as dangerous and hostile as this one._

Then she snorted, disgusted that the thought had ever crossed her mind. _Now I'm starting to sound like those ridiculous people in robes. _She shook her head to clear those thoughts out of it.

Taking the small sack of coal and the modest amount of money that was the standard payment for all civil workers, she headed south, taking the flattened path of long grass. Once there'd been plans to build roads between the settlements, but that plan had long been abandoned. For now, the crude road would have to do.

Glad that the acrid smell of ash was no longer blowing into her nose Lightning loosened her scarf a little. She hoped no one would have the audacity to look at her; after all, she wasn't a friendly person. Nonetheless, she avoided speaking as much as possible in case someone recognized her voice. She was probably being paranoid, but after months of trying to avoid the Church and Command alike she was tired of being chased, tired of their insistence that she help them , and tired of being treated as though she could make everyone's problems go away.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the mouth of the rough burlap sack. _Go find someone else to solve your problems!_

Her less than happy mood persisted until Lightning reached the main portion of town. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a town. Houses had been thrown together hastily out of either wood or stone, and from all the fires that they'd had to create lately, most of them were soot stained as well until they were as grey as the dirt they'd been built on. Technology as she remembered seemed a long way off. _Not until we defeat the Drasil. _

The crimson sunset had driven most inhabitants back to their homes—although it was unlikely for the Drasil to come soon, the smell of smoke that repelled them wouldn't last long, and it wasn't as though they had enough resources to keep fires burning day and night. She cast a sullen gaze over at the concrete building towards the south of the settlement, surrounded by a slightly crumbling stone wall. Any sympathy she might've felt for Command had long been erased by their ceaseless hounding of her.

Unceremoniously, she kicked a stray lump of coal under her boot. _Some people just don't grasp the concept of "unwelcome". Speaking of unwelcome…_

She spotted Serah's drawn face peeking around the rough curtains that framed the crude glass of the windows. Her sister wore a look of relief as she opened the door. "You're back!" Accepting the hug that her sister offered her, Lightning dropped the sack of coal near the entranceway.

"You're going to get ash on your clothes," she rebuked her sister as she headed towards the small sink in the corner of the kitchen, intent on getting the dirt out from under her fingernails. Serah followed her with the coal, dumping it in the wooden bucket near the small heater.

"I'll just wash them later," came the reply. Lightning half turned her head to see a small smile playing on Serah's lips. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"I did promise to be careful," she replied dryly, still scrubbing at her palms.

Her sister's face failed a little as she went on. "Command was here again today, looking for you." There was a little pause before Serah went on. "I told them you were out."

Sensing that she was waiting for her to say something, Lightning turned off the water. "Thanks." Her sister hesitated, but she wasn't prepared to say more on the subject.

Handing her a towel, Serah sat down at the small table. "They're not going to give up on hoping to catch you sometime, you know. They know you live here."

Lightning felt like rolling her eyes. "They're just wasting their time," she said between gritted teeth. "The only reason they're not here now waiting for me is because they want to stay on my good side. Come on, Serah, d'you really think Heklar is that stupid?"

Serah pursed her lips, and she could tell that her sister didn't want to continue discussing this particular topic. Her sister brightened a little a moment later. "Snow's coming home today," she blurted out, clearly wanting to talk about something else.

_Great._

"He's excited to come home," Serah continued determinedly, ignoring the distasteful expression Lightning was sure she was wearing on her face at the moment. "And he's excited to see you too."

"I'll bet he is," Lightning muttered under her breath. "He's excited to see everyone. He's like a big dog who's seen his favourite chew toy." _And that chew toy, of course, would be me._

Serah gave her a long look. "Be nice to him, okay?" she asked pleadingly. "I know he isn't exactly your favourite person right now, but he's been really busy lately… I did tell him to stop being… _annoying _about it."

And as irritated as Lightning was at her de-facto brother at the moment, that was enough to draw a small smile from her, and she sighed. "Yeah… okay. I can't guarantee anything if he starts again, though," she warned her sister.

Serah returned her smile. "Trying is good." Getting up, her sister made her way over to the wooden box that was outside in the tiny backyard. Drifts of snow were still piled up in the corners, their ash-grey tops touched to a crimson gold in the sunset. For the time being it was still cold enough at night to keep food inside it, but they would have to find another way to keep the food fresh once summer came.

Leaving her sister to the cooking, Lightning found herself wandering up the half-flight of stairs. There wasn't that much more space upstairs, but with Snow coming home soon, she preferred to be upstairs rather than down. His perpetual good mood tended to ruin hers, and she snorted, remembering the broken man that she'd once found in Yusnaan. The memory seemed almost exotic, as though it'd been taken from someone else's life. _It seems so far away now._

_Could I really have imagined that this is the new future we fought so hard to save?_

Lightning found herself on the tiny balcony that overlooked the small settlement into the dying red sun. Resting her chin on her palm, she found that she had no answer for that question, because so many other questions lay unanswered.

She supposed that she owed Snow a certain degree of thanks. The burly man had volunteered instantly to "help the people", something she inherently shied away from. It was thanks to him they even had a place to live—unlike the other settlers who had scrambled to put wooden shacks together in the outskirts of town before winter had hit. And because Snow had volunteered to work at Command, she was spared a certain amount of responsibility, although he hadn't stopped asking her to join them every time he came home.

That was what she hated most about him. Sure, he was a more likeable person now—or maybe she'd learned to just put up with him, instead of him being the bane of her existence—but she hated his pointed comments that he made an effort to make every time he was around, which, thankfully, wasn't often. He acted like he didn't know about the string of officers that were continuously dispatched to his own home. Serah, of course, agreed with him on principle. It wasn't that her sister was particularly fond of her working at Command, it was that she agreed with him that she should get out of the house more often.

Serah had noticed the change in her demeanor much more quickly than Snow had, although if the blond man still had no inkling of it, then he had to be on a whole new level of unobservant. _But Serah doesn't understand. _Lightning found her free hand clenching into a fist. _I don't want to be responsible for everyone anymore. And if I go to command, that's exactly what's going to happen. _

She wasn't exactly open to sharing that particular thought with her sister—she didn't want to be the topic of another soul searching conversation that wouldn't go anywhere.

_Because Serah and Snow are different people. They're happy. They don't carry the weight of everything that they've done around with them on their shoulders. _

_I do._

But that little fact wasn't something she planned on burdening Serah with at all. After all, her sister was back, she was happy—considering the circumstances—and she wasn't about to break into that. If it meant putting up with the pair of them whenever Snow was around, then she supposed that was the price she would have to pay.

She half-smiled at that to herself. After everything they'd been through, she still wasn't comfortable emptying all her thoughts out like Snow did to her sister. _Old habits die hard, I guess. _She stayed put where she was, although she heard the door open and close downstairs, wrapped in a moment of uncharacteristic nostalgia, as the thought brought up memories that seemed like they'd happened lifetimes ago. And maybe they had, all things considered. Where she stood now seemed like the furthest thing she had in mind when she remembered her thoughts about the future she'd wanted to create. The old sense of unease crept through her limbs when Lightning caught sight of a distant plume of fire, bright already against the darkening sky.

_I'm not the only person who fought for a future._

_Fang, Vanille… and Hope. We all wanted the same thing. Where are they now, I wonder?_


	2. The Next Time We Meet

**So, yay!**

**For once, I'm kind of on schedule, haha. I'm going to throw this out there and say expect an update every two weeks or so, give or take a few days. Anyways, this chapter was kind of hard, because it's mostly dialogue and transition, and I planned so many of the lines in my head as I drove to work, but I didn't manage to make all of them work in that exact context when I sat down to write it. ._. So if something sounds off, it was probably me, rofl. Hopefully it's not _disappointingly __bad, _though. :K**

**All that rambling aside, thanks _so_ much to everyone who followed/favourited me, and to ForTheEpicness, time-and-relative-dimensions91, H-thar, and Zapper90 for all the reviews. I had fun replying to them all! :3 As usual, reviews/constructive criticism (someone _please_ let me know if I made absolutely zero sense this chapter if it comes across that way) are very welcome, and see you guys soon! (:**

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><p><span>Chapter Two: The Next Time We Meet<span>

Trying to ignore Snow's loud chewing and the episodic giggles that kept coming from their corner of the admittedly-small table, Lightning picked at the remains of her food while trying to periodically shoot disdainful looks in the direction of the burly blond and her sister. The two of them were laughing over some piece of paper Snow must've brought home with him from his work, although she had absolutely no interest in whatever it was that was so amusing. _So much for peace and quiet._

Resting her hand on her chin, she half-turned around to watch the rapidly darkening sky outside the window. The plumes of smoke from the earlier fire she'd seen still were still visible, and she briefly wondered where that particular fire had come from. Tuning out the quiet conversation behind her, Lightning found that the sight outside—the dark grey against indigo—struck at something vulnerable deep inside; a certain amount of what she supposed was both regret and apprehension.

_Was this meant to happen? _

The thought made her feel lonely, although it wasn't the first time it had done so. She'd believed in the future that she's fought for, then. She wasn't at all sure if she still believed in that same future because it seemed like every time they tried to create that future once more, it seemed to slip from their grasp: intangible, like trying to hold water in shaking hands. _Was I right in trying to fight? _There was one question that prowled at the back of her consciousness, one that she didn't want to admit to anybody.

_Should I have let Bhunivelze create our future instead?_

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><p><em>The distant crack of thunder echoed against the stone mountains and the early autumn rain was unrelenting. Her hair and clothes already soaked, Lightning found that the crude tent above her head did little to stop the water from seeping through. For once, she was glad Serah was back in town. The stone structures that had been rapidly constructed had to have been better than anything they had out here at the moment.<em>

_Another flash lit up the night sky, illuminating the thousands of raindrops that showed no sign of stopping. Sloshing through the wet grass and the mud underneath, she found Snow kneeling at the edge of the small cliff, mechanically wiping water from his eyes every few seconds, a few feet from the lookout point. He glanced at the sky every so often._

"_They should be back by now," she heard him mutter under his breath. "It shouldn't take that long to get back from the mountains." He wasn't looking for a reply, and she didn't give him one, but Lightning stood silently against the cold rain, waiting for the same thing as him. _

_Visibility would have been poor even if there hadn't been the storm that had decided to hit sometime that afternoon. There were precious few resources to work with, and the few cumbersome and inefficient electric lights that they'd managed to procure during that time didn't work all that well in the rain. Intelligence had managed to get their hands on a couple, but the storm had all but negated any effectiveness they'd had on the growing darkness._

_The steady rhythm of the rain was so loud that she almost missed the sound of heavy hooves against earth. Squinting in the darkness, she could barely make out the silhouettes against the black mountains._

_Snow stood up abruptly. "Is that them?" Like her, he was straining to see in the poor lighting, but there could be no mistaking the sound of the horses, even in the squall. The creak of crudely made metal seemed sharp and unnatural, and she had to remind herself, yet again, that technology was a long way off. But as the large light was turned towards the flat grasslands that lead towards the base of the mountains, something else caught her eye, beyond the dark shape of the horses._

_She reached out to stop Snow when he turned to leave, presumably to jump down the short cliff. "What…is that?" _

"_Huh?" The blond man had been watching the lookout station, but he glanced back when she tightened her grip on his arm. He opened his mouth once before closing it, because clearly, he was looking at the same thing she was. _

_There were darker shapes against the deep grey of the surrounding landscapes, but that wasn't the eerie part. The moment the bigger light—despite its low potency—had been turned towards them, there were eyes reflecting back at them. Even in the storm, even though they had to still be about a kilometer away, she could see them, bright crimson against black. _

_Instinctively, Lightning took a step backwards. There was not a single moment in her experience where she could attribute this to something positive, and anxiety twisted in her stomach. The riders on the horses seemed to be aware that they were being followed—she could hear the hooves much more clearly now, and even from here where she was still far away, she could tell it was no leisurely pace. _

_There was something else above the sound of the rain: flapping wings, and as Lightning watched the black forms grow closer on the horizon she felt her muscles tense. Even if her mind did not want to accept it—that there could be any form of danger around here—her body was prepared to fight. The distressed murmurs around her increased in volume, but she was hardly paying attention anymore._

"_Snow!" she hissed into the darkness, but she couldn't make out the burly fighter anywhere near her. The stupid man must've moved closer to what she was almost sure was imminent danger in her moment of hesitation and she cursed silently, knowing exactly how much trouble she would get into if the blond man didn't come back with her in one piece. _

_She was about to turn around to go look for him when a shrill bird's cry interrupted the sounds around her. Almost crow-like, it was joined immediately by many more. The sounds of the rain seemed mute in comparison as the light on the lookout point spluttered into darkness and exploded in a shower of sparks. In the near darkness, the space around her felt compressed. She wasn't claustrophobic, but the heaviness of the air pressed against her chest uncomfortably as Lightning looked around for the nearest light source._

_About fifty feet away was another one of the lights that the search group had been given, but before she could do so much as turn her body towards it did yells interrupt the blackness. She could hear the sounds of scuffles, but without light, there wasn't much to see. Stumbling in the darkness now, she tried to make her way to the only source of light she could reach. There was little chance of her finding Snow now—she would be lucky to even bump into him at this rate._

_There seemed to be many more things lying on the wet grass than she remembered, but the chaos that had descended so quickly around her seemed almost surreal. She tripped once—over a flimsy metal pole that must've been part of one of the hastily constructed tents—but she rolled it into her palm. She felt better with a weapon to her name, even if it wouldn't hold up a tenth of its weight in an actual fight._

_The loud squawks and yells hadn't ceased, but Lightning felt strangely unattached to the environment around her, as though she was moving through water. Another crow call sounded close to her ear, and she turned around, close enough to the dim light that she was able to see about a meter or two in front of her. A bright flash lit up the sky the moment she turned, illuminating the dark shadow of an eagle-sized bird not three feet away from her, crimson eyes blinking suddenly in the harsh light, its black beak wide open._

_She reacted a heartbeat too late; sharp talons dug into the skin of her left forearm as she raised it to protect her head. Letting out a small hiss of pain, she raised the pole in her right arm to meet the bird as it dived for her again. _

_The tip of the metal pole met resistance as she slashed it downwards like a sword. It wasn't anything close to a real weapon, but it did what she hoped it would do. The creature in front of her flapped its now uneven wings unsteadily as it tried to escape, but there was no way she was letting that happen. Stabbing the pole forwards, she caught its broad chest as it tried to flap away, ripping open the joint where the wing feathers met the body. It dropped like a sodden rag, the crimson light rapidly fading from its gaze as thunder echoed off the distant mountains._

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><p>"Hey!" A sharp prod accompanied the one syllable word as Lightning was distracted from the sharp memories that the plume of smoke had reminded her of, and she looked up to see the slightly disdainful look that both her sister and Snow were giving her.<p>

"What?"

Snow gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry Sis, but this is what I've been trying to tell you. You don't pay attention when other people talk to you," he said through a mouthful of black bread. She scowled at him, before he went on after swallowing. "Like I was saying, a Class Four attacked Southtown yesterday."

Usually, she _didn't_ pay much attention when Snow started in on his reports on what had happened at work, partially because she usually they weren't of any interest to her, and partially because half of them were pointed reasons for why she should've been there with him. If it had been up to her, Lightning would've banned the topic from the table, but she let it slide, only for the sake of Serah. Her sister saw so little of Snow in the recent weeks that she clung to almost every word he spoke, and she couldn't deny Serah the precious few moments she spent with her fiancé, even if it thoroughly annoyed her that she had to listen to a complete rundown of everything that'd happened to the man every time he came home.

But the mention of the Drasil had peaked her interest. "A Class Four?"

Snow looked at her skeptically, pretending that he couldn't believe that she would be interested in anything he said. "Yeah, a Class Four. We got the report this morning—it trampled half of Southtown before they managed to scare it away." He scratched the top of his head, looking ominously serious for once. "They couldn't even take it down; it took out half the settlement and scaring it off was the best they could do with the bombs they had."

"The one we saw around here a week ago was a Class Three, right?" Her sister's pale blue gaze was serious as she watched her fiancé, one hand draped delicately around his huge wrist.

"Yep." Snow reached for another piece of bread.

Serah's gaze followed his hand before it returned to the tabletop. "But, they're classified in terms of sizes, aren't they? If the Class Ones and Twos are the smaller ones, and that was a Class Three we saw last week, then the Class Four must've been _huge._"

"'Bout the size of a block," Snow replied in between mouthfuls of bread. "It was a miracle they even saved half the settlement. Which reminds me," he continued darkly, glancing in her direction. "If you're still insisting on digging through the mud like some common worker, you might get sent to Southtown tomorrow. The higher ups were talking about it; normally, we wouldn't send anyone so far because it's dangerous out there, but Southtown is in bad shape."

Lightning scowled at him again—the word "dangerous" wasn't a bright one to use, and they both knew it. But whether his intent was frightening her into not going—after all, the work was voluntary: she didn't _have _to go if she didn't want to—or just trying to intimidate and pressure her into coming to work with him instead, she wasn't sure. What she _was_ sure of was that she wasn't going to buy into either.

"Thanks for the information," she replied dryly, before getting up from the table and walking over to the small window at the back of the kitchen.

Serah had watched their exchange with a serious blue gaze, but she kept quiet. Lightning remembered their conversation before Snow had gotten home; her sister wasn't oblivious, but the tension between them was evident and she knew Serah didn't like that.

But Serah was wrong if she thought she was going to back down to Snow so easily, and with frustration, she remembered that Serah had told her she'd told him to lay off on the pointed remarks. _Well, that was about as obvious as he could get. What's next? Handing me an official document for me to sign? _ She snorted; the blond man was inching closer and closer to the breaking point where she'd informed her sister of earlier. _Being "nice" to him can only go so far._ The fingers of her right hand absentmindedly traced across the faint scars on her left forearm left by the crow Drasil months before; it was a bad habit that she'd developed, but Lightning couldn't see reason to break it. The slightly raised skin there was a subtle but ever-present reminder that the world they'd come to was far from perfect, and if there had been any fruition in today, it would've been that it was a reminder of just how far they still had to go.

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><p>Snow's prediction came true within hours, when the blond man had ventured outside following dinner to go look at the wooden billboard at the end of the block. He'd come back with an unreadable expression before announcing it in a carefully controlled voice. Serah's gaze had flicked back and forth between them, but Lightning hadn't planned on giving anything away, keeping her face impassive as she avoided looking at the man.<p>

Now, still sitting downstairs in the dark room, she heard the creak of wooden steps as someone came down the stairs. It wasn't Serah—she could hear the sound of water upstairs as her sister went to take a bath in the water that they'd heated during the day—which meant it had to be Snow. Annoyance sparked inside her: when would the man learn to leave her alone? _What does he want _now_?_

She'd been expecting anger in his voice, but there was none when he spoke. "I was hoping to talk to you without Serah around," he started. His expression was neutral, and she crossed her arms as she waited.

He inhaled and exhaled loudly before he spoke again. "Look, Sis, I know I'm not exactly your favourite person on the planet right now. I never was," he chuckled, "but this isn't about me. This is about Serah."

She arched an eyebrow at him as he continued. "I don't mean to bug you on purpose—well, okay, maybe I do," he corrected himself, "but I really wish you'd reconsider about not working for Command."

"We've had this conversation before," she told him flatly, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "I'm not changing my mind."

"Why not?" He took a step closer to where she was sitting. "Wouldn't it make more sense? You wouldn't have to work anywhere dangerous, we'd get just about the same amount of benefits, _and_ Serah wouldn't worry so much. What could possibly be bad about all that?"

Lightning stood up, aware of the fact that her annoyance was probably showing on her face now. "You don't get it," she countered, crossing her arms across her chest.

Snow didn't back down. "What don't we get? Lightning, you could've pulled that excuse way back before, when you were stuck in limbo, and even afterwards, when you were supposed to save all our souls. That would've been a valid argument then. But it isn't now—what part of _anything_ now do we not get?"

She found that she couldn't answer that question truthfully. Not that she wanted to tell Snow the truth in any case, but Lightning found that as far as a 'reasonable' excuse that Snow wanted, she couldn't give him one. _I don't think I'm lying when I say that they wouldn't understand... but do they see things that way?_

Snow had never regretted anything. Possibly, when he looked over the end of the world in Yusnaan, but after that, and even before that, he'd always said that there was nothing but to go forwards—and that was exactly what he was doing now. His positive determination had led him to where he stood now.

Even Serah. Even when she had believed that sending her sister on that particular journey had been a mistake, Serah had never thought of it that way. She'd genuinely wanted to change the future—even when she knew she'd been growing closer and closer to death the more futures she saw.

_But I'm not them. I never will be. I keep wondering what things might've been like if I hadn't meddled with time without knowing its consequences, or tried to change what our future was without knowing what was in store for us, waiting at the end of the world. _

_I don't want to make another mistake, and I don't want to be the reason why something goes wrong again. Is that something Snow and Serah would understand?_

Somehow, she didn't think so.

By focussing on something else, it drowned out the thoughts that constantly plagued her when she was alone; the what-ifs and the I-should'ves. Lightning found that the only relief from those thoughts came from physical exertion. The more time that she spent on mindless physical work, the less she tended to dwell on uncomfortable thoughts, which in turn put her in a slightly better mood when she had to interact with other people.

But whether or not Snow and Serah would've understood even if she'd said it out loud, there was another bad habit of hers that lingered beneath the surface. _I hate looking vulnerable. _It was a notion she now knew wasn't healthy for anyone around her, but Lightning had found herself withdrawing from opportunities to communicate with people more and more as the pressure for her to _do _something increased. The more her sister and Snow tried to get her to join Command and to open up, the more unwilling she was to do it. Perhaps the two were connected in more ways than one, but regardless, she didn't intend on going back on what she'd decided no matter what anyone said to her. _This is my choice._

She met his fervent gaze for a few more heartbeats before Snow sighed. "Okay," he acquiesced, "I won't pretend I understand what's going on inside your head, Sis. But please, _please_ don't upset Serah."

Lightning winced; despite her irritation with him, she had to admit that at least on that level, he was right. "You know I don't do that on purpose."

He crossed his arms back at her. "And you _know_ you've upset her with your decision to go to Southtown tomorrow morning. She worries about you when you're out."

She found that she didn't have an answer for that statement either. _What can I say? _

He looked at her for a long while before continuing, heaviness creeping into his tone. When Snow said his next words, he sounded like he'd been carrying them with him for a thousand years—which, she acknowledged, he very well might have. "We both owe her."

She met his eyes, knowing the weight of his words as though they were her own. "I know."

* * *

><p>The morning light seeped through milky clouds, though whether the smoke would ever clear away completely was something that remained to be seen.<p>

Lightning had tried to be discreet when she'd been getting ready, though the quality of the wood in the stairs didn't make her task any easier, but she'd found Serah already sitting at the table, silently watching the sun rise through the gaps in the mountains. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say to her sister—the conversation with Snow from the previous evening still lingered at the back of her mind, and somehow, everything she might've said sounded oddly inappropriate in her head, and so she kept her mouth shut, afraid that she would say the wrong thing.

Serah had watched her with a quiet gaze, unobtrusive, but for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve, Lightning couldn't figure out what her sister was thinking. It was only when she was halfway down the front steps did Serah finally stop her.

"Be careful, okay?" Her next heartbeat was one of pained guilt: she hated that this was Serah's usual way of saying goodbye. _But…_

After the previous night's conversation, her usual response to the question seemed inadequate, but Lightning found that she didn't have the words to say what she wanted, not because she didn't think she couldn't justify the decision she'd made, but because there would be no way she could do it without some part of it coming out wrong, and because the last thing she wanted right now was pity, should she try. "I will." She paused, wondering how to continue—she felt certain that Serah had at least heard part of what had happened downstairs the night before, but how much her sister had heard, she didn't know. "I'm sorry…"

These too, felt inadequate, but she didn't have a coherent articulation for how she really felt.

Serah looked surprised, genuinely so. "For what?"

"For worrying you," she offered, hoping that it meant what she hoped it would mean.

She was unprepared for the hug that Serah offered her, and for a few moments, Lightning wasn't sure whether she'd only succeeded in making her sister cry—something she was keen to avoid at all costs—or if she'd said something she shouldn't have. But nonetheless, she returned it automatically: she'd learned the hard way about taking things that she shouldn't have for granted.

Serah looked up at her, a serious light in her normally playful blue eyes. "I know you are. But… I just want us to be happy," she continued quietly. "_Really _happy, I mean. And... I know neither Snow nor I can really understand how you feel right now, so if going away makes you feel better, then I can't ever be against that."

"Serah…"

Her voice was soft as she continued. "I can't really pretend I understand everything either, but I just wanted to let you know that we _are _here for you too if you want to talk."

Lightning exhaled quietly, not realizing that she'd been holding her breath. For what, she wasn't one hundred percent sure for, but… _But this conversation could've gone worse. _And for that, she was grateful. Taking a small step back, she tried to gather her thoughts together. "Thanks," she murmured quietly, unable still to put the remainder of her emotions into words. "I'll try to, okay?"

The corners of Serah's mouth twitched. "Trying is good." She repeated her words from the previous night. "I can accept that." Her sister paused again. "That's all we've ever expected from you, you know?"

_Yeah, I knew. But I didn't take you up on it. Whether it's because I don't have the courage to, or because I'm too selfish to, I don't know._

* * *

><p>Regardless of how she felt inside, the morning air cleared her head and allowed her to process the tumultuous emotions that showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon. There was a certain amount of relief, but it didn't run very deep, as Lightning followed the dirt path south from the settlement, huddled towards the back of the group of people as she always was. There was a certain part of her that reassured that on some level, Serah <em>did<em> understand, but she was also painfully aware that that was only the tip of the iceberg. The whole thing would have to be uncovered sooner or later, if they were ever going to make it past the silent stand-off that had seemed to exist between her and Snow ever since she turned down Command's initial offer to her, instead choosing to find work with the civil workers, but she wasn't particularly looking forward to _that_ conversation.

Wariness prickled her skin; in any other situation, the landscape around here might've been serene, but she found that her muscles were as tense as they might've been if she'd preparing for a fight. _Who knows what's out there? _It was impossible to tell; the ravine was quiet now with the occasional burst of birdsong from a grove of trees, but whether something much more sinister was waiting for her just around the next turn was beyond anyone's capacity to predict.

_I hate this._

She hated tiptoeing along as though she was prey and _waiting_ for something to happen. She had never been one to wait until trouble had already opened the door—if it had been up to her, she would've met that particular danger before it even had the chance to target her, but Lightning had to accept that things were _not_ up to her to decide. It was her own fault, of course, but cold claws gripped her stomach when she remembered just how much could go wrong. _But still…_

She spared a glance at the grey morning sky. It was still early, and according to Snow, Southtown was almost a full day's walk through the ravine in between the mountains. She'd never been there herself, namely because civilians weren't generally allowed to travel between the various settlements unless they were assigned to. Not that anyone would leave the safety of the settlement voluntarily: there were too many Drasil outside the sparse areas of population for it to be considered safe.

That begged the question of what exactly she was doing here, and for a moment, Lightning felt as though she understood her sister's misgivings. But it was too late to go back now, and despite the risks she would be taking—who knew if they'd run into Drasil on the way there—it was _almost_ worth avoiding the visits from Command. She found herself looking upwards, finding a branch overhead swollen with delicate green buds. For some unknown reason, the sight was reassuring.

_I _will_ keep that promise._

* * *

><p>Lightning wasn't completely sure what she was expecting Southtown to look like. From Snow's description, he'd made it sound like Southtown was much like where they lived, only it was halfway across the range of mountains that seemed to stretch for endless miles. She remembered that he'd said the Class Four Drasil had destroyed half the settlement, but she hadn't expected it to be <em>this<em> bad.

Dying fires still burned slowly, sending dark plumes of smoke into the sky, only to whipped away by the strong gusts of wind. Snow had been right; she could clearly make out the flattened wooden structures closer to the river, but somehow, hearing it and seeing it weren't the same.

The familiar apprehension hit her in the chest like a physical blow. _Was this my fault, too? _She stopped at the edge of the trees, torn between the desire to run away from this too, and the instilled knowledge that she couldn't run now.

Suddenly, coming to Southtown didn't seem like a good idea anymore. She felt sick; there was a nauseous feeling in her stomach that was entirely unrelated to what she'd eaten that morning, and she numbly moved her feet as she followed the straggly single file towards the remnants of the settlements.

For the thousandth time, Lightning was glad she'd managed to keep her identity hidden; she'd seen enough desolation for a lifetime, but she was like something of a magnet for trouble—she didn't intentionally try to go looking for it, but somehow, it always ended up finding her anyways.

Collecting her shovel, she found herself assigned to a near corner of the town. Carefully avoiding the faces of the local settlers, she returned to her old routine: by pushing herself physically, it squeezed out all other thoughts that might've crossed her mind otherwise. It tended to work fairly well, even in the worst of times, but today, she felt almost self-conscious, moving between the crowds of people who lived Southtown. Although she was usually keen to avoid eye contact with most people, she felt more paranoid than usual, as though invisible gazes were trained on her back, though she hadn't attracted anyone's attention… so far.

For the first time in months—or perhaps Southtown was just unnaturally balmy—the sun shone strongly through grey wisps of cloud as it set. Without realizing it, she'd loosened the scarf that she used to conceal the lower half of her face: both the lingering smoke and the unseasonal heat were making her warmer than she would've liked.

Lightning was about to go dump her last load of ash and burnt wood in the cart when someone tapped her shoulder. Annoyed, the thought crossed her mind that who, exactly, would have the audacity to want her attention. By all accounts, she wasn't a friendly person, and most people tended to stay away from her, which suited her personal agenda just fine. Still unsettled by the unfortunate turn of events that had happened to her in the last forty-eight hours, she whipped around, fully intending to snap an irritated reply.

The words died at the back of her throat when she found herself looking into a pair of very familiar emerald eyes.

"_What_ are you doing here?"


	3. Tired of Eternity

**Hi folks!**

**Yay, I'm on time once again! I was scared I wasn't going be, but inspiration for this chapter hit me like a ton of bricks sometime this past weekend, and I got about 75% of this chapter done from about Sunday night till now, so I'm pretty pleased with myself. xD Thank you to Aoi Hyoudou, ForTheEpicness, H-thar, and Zapper90 for the reviews, it means a lot to me. (:**

**So I don't feel _quite_ as queasy about this chapter as I did the last (in fact, I'm quite pleased with how the last quarter of it or so turned out) but nonetheless, I did do some 1am editing on this so if there's a glaring inconsistency/mistake, let me know, haha!**

**As always reviews/constructive criticism is always welcomed, and I'll see you guys in ~2 weeks!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three: Tired of Eternity<span>

For a brief heartbeat, Lightning was so flustered that she couldn't find the right words to say. She'd run for so long from confrontation that now that there was no option to run away, she had absolutely no answer for Hope, standing about two feet away from her, the question burning in his verdant gaze.

Struggling to register the fact that he was now taller than her—_how_ could she have forgotten about that little detail—amongst other things, they stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last both a second and a lifetime. Eventually, the annoyance she felt at the equally aggravated expression in his green eyes got the better of her. "W-What?" she spluttered, taking a defensive step backwards.

Hope half held up his hands, perhaps preparing himself for a different confrontation he seemed to expect. "I asked you what you were doing here… like _this_," he finished, not bothering to hide the disgusted surprise in his tone. Seemingly unbothered by the fluttering irritation that she was sure she was displaying, Lightning stared at him before instinct took over—perhaps unconsciously. Temporarily oblivious to her surroundings, she found her fingers curling into a fist.

"What does it look like?" She wasn't one hundred percent sure whether she meant the hostility in her voice.

Hope narrowed his eyes at her. "You mean you _don't_ find anything wrong with this?"

For some reason, the words rubbed her the wrong way—and coming from _him,_ they hurt more than if Snow would've said it; if Lightning was honest with herself, she wasn't sure why they hurt so much either. She opened her mouth to snap back before she thought better of it: there was absolutely nothing to be gained from arguing with him in this dirt field apart from attracting attention to herself—which she was already succeeding in doing. She made to turn around before his hand closed around her wrist. The move only served to make her angry, as she turned back, an angry retort already ready.

Hope seemed to realize he'd already made a mistake by antagonizing her, because he promptly loosened his grip on her. "Light, don't go," he implored quietly. "I mean, sorry—I didn't mean to argue with you. Please… can we talk?" He paused for a moment, before adding as an afterthought. "Away from here."

_That_ sounded more like the Hope she remembered, although, she acquiesced, she hadn't really known him when he'd led the Academy in the long _centuries_ she'd been gone. The errant thought crossed her mind for a moment. _Has it really been that long? _Lightning scrutinized him for a long while—part of her was telling her that even _talking_ would be a bad idea; if her memories served right, he was almost as bad in the "soul-searching" department as Serah was, but she couldn't deny the subdued relief that he was safe; though he'd spent an irritating amount of time in her ear, there was an almost wistful flavour to the memories she did have of their very last days in their previous world.

_Is it because in so many ways, it was better than this one?_

And suddenly, the apprehension was back as a new layer of suspicion entered her thoughts. _What if he tells me we were wrong to do this, that everything leading up to all this—even meeting here—was a mistake? _Cold claws seized her chest for a wild, panic filled moment.

Painfully self-conscious that she was still attracting an unfortunate amount of attention, Lightning tried to consider her options. No doubt if she stood around any longer, some official was going to recognize her. _That_ would certainly raise a few questions she wasn't in the mood to answer; perhaps they would even know that she'd denied their colleagues of the same thing not too long ago, and try to coerce her into doing what the officials back home couldn't do. That thought alone was enough to make her angry. _I came here to get away from all that!_ And suddenly, the pros of going along with whatever Hope had in mind outweighed the cons, as much as she hated to admit it.

She breathed in through her nose, letting out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, before facing him, hoping he hadn't seen through her brief moment of vulnerability. "Fine."

A curious relief flared in his green eyes before Hope turned around. Lightning couldn't quite figure out why he looked so relieved, but was also painfully aware it was not her place to ask. A little disgruntled at the fact that he was now taller than her, she reminded herself that he wasn't some little kid to be reprimanded anymore. Somehow, when he was shorter, it was easier to forget that fact; now with his nose roughly level with her forehead, she didn't quite have the same excuse.

He waited patiently for her while she collected her things, noting that he stood somewhat awkwardly apart from the other officials that had arrived to inspect the site. Briefly, Lightning wondered if he wasn't involved with them—before she stopped herself. If she knew Hope like she thought she did, he would've volunteered right away to help, just like Snow. _He was never the type to sit idly._

The thought brought memories back, but somehow, they felt disjointed, as though they were from someone else's life—and they might as well have been; she felt so far from being the same person that had stood at the edge of the Hanging Edge so long ago that Lightning felt she wouldn't have been surprised if someone had come up to tell her that none of it had ever happened to her.

Falling into step behind Hope as he set off on the darkening streets, the dying sun behind them staining the rough stone a dull crimson, none of them spoke for a long while. She couldn't quite figure this one out either—for his relative chattiness not fifteen minutes earlier, it was like he'd done a complete one-eighty in personality. She wondered if she was being too hypocritical; after all, _she_ was never one to start a conversation on her own… _But shouldn't he know that? _

She coughed as a puff of ash was blown into her face. About to ask him why he'd asked to "talk" when he showed absolutely no intention of doing so, Lightning closed her mouth when Hope cleared his throat. "So, you've been in Vale this whole time?" he started quietly, his tone neutral.

Lightning wondered whether he was keeping his voice careful on purpose or not, and she was slightly wary of where exactly he wanted to bring this particular conversation to. _After all, it can't be a coincidence he showed up with those officials. _"Yeah," she replied, trying to keep the suspicion out of her own tone. "Snow and Serah too," she added on after a brief pause.

"That's good. Well, relatively," he corrected himself. "It can't be much better there than it is here, can it?" He was looking at the soot stained walls of the houses around them as he said it, and Lightning did not miss the quiet sadness in his tone.

She found that some of her wariness had vanished, because she could relate to exactly how he felt. "No," she murmured quietly, "it's not."

"But they're safe. That's a start, isn't it?" The question was musing, and she took it to refer to her sister and her annoying fiancé. She couldn't help but notice that he was looking towards the darkening red sky as he said it.

"I guess." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she continued. "I wish things were different, though."

To her surprise, he chuckled at that. "Don't we all?" There was a small smile that twitched at the corner of his lips. "But that's what everyone's working for, isn't it?" Behind the light-toned question, the intensity in his emerald eyes burned. _He knows exactly what's going on, doesn't he?_

"Maybe," she muttered, feeling animosity crowd up in her chest again, suddenly as wary as ever of what—exactly—Hope was after. She couldn't even be sure that someone like Snow hadn't put him up to this particular act, although Lightning had to admit that planning this far wasn't something that would up the blond man's sleeve, but her increasing paranoia since Command had taken to following her everywhere in Vale wouldn't let her dismiss the thought.

There was a brief silence that stretched between them for a few minutes, and in that time, Lightning was struck by just how _strange_ their reunion was. She wasn't one hundred percent sure of what she'd been expecting, ever since the existence of the Drasil had been discovered. She'd always imagined that he was out there _somewhere_, but as to where, she had yet to find. She'd thought of exactly what she was going to say to him when that particular moment had come even less. _What exactly am I supposed to say? I don't think he's exactly forgotten what happened between us, but bringing it up would be awkward… wouldn't it? _And although Lightning had never been one for hugs or anything of that sort, she couldn't deny that there was an intangible connection between them, formed in that one moment of perfect clarity when she had finally come to know and fully accept that they were both only human—nothing more and nothing less.

It would've been an awkward conversation starter even if their new world hadn't been full of ravenous monsters bent on eating them all. _"Hey Hope, remember when we saved each other?" _It sounded stupid in her head. But that particular connection was there—and Lightning wondered if it would ever go away. Nonetheless, it added another level of delicacy to their already precarious conversation, and it was only compounded by the fact that she was still not used to him being taller than her. It was a stupid reason; that much she knew in her head, but somehow, it had been easier to talk to him when he was only shoulder height.

Lightning found Hope looking at her, the intensity in his verdant gaze from earlier still present. "So… is there a particular reason you're not helping?" The question was gentle, but searching.

She took the word "helping" to mean joining Command.

"It's none of your business," she growled back, her earlier sympathy vanishing on the spot. _Why does everyone think it's so important that I "help"?_

She was taken aback at the sudden hurt in his eyes—it was unexpected and it stopped her in her tracks completely. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should've apologized; after all, it wasn't exactly _his_ fault that his colleagues back in Vale had already worn her patience thin. But if Hope had some objection to her harsh words, he didn't voice them, choosing instead to keep walking, his pace becoming more brisk.

Lightning fought to ignore the uneasiness that was growing inside her, fueling an increasing silent awkwardness between them—she didn't like it, but was also aware of the fact that she'd started it. She bit her bottom lip, wondering if she was supposed to say something, when they turned a corner and she saw Hope visibly scowl. Following his gaze, she looked down the darkening street, only to see several people dressed in white, chanting the words to some mantra she couldn't hear.

She scowled too—clearly, she wasn't the only one annoyed by the religious sects that paraded up and down streets. "I wish they'd mind their own business," she heard Hope mutter under his breath.

Taking it as a chance to change the subject, she gave them one last glance before they disappeared out of sight. "I take it you're having a problem with them, too?"

He seemed to have forgiven her already. "Yeah. They don't understand what's going on, and just spend all day saying everyone's a sinner, that we should've done more before the world ended so we wouldn't have to deal with the Drasil, et cetera." His tone grew increasingly bitter as he continued. "But they don't try to make things better. It doesn't matter what you believe in or not, what matters is that we're here, and this is now, and the only way we'll even _have_ a future is if we work for one."

She cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Hope looked like he completely believed in what he was saying—and of that, she could be envious. Lightning knew that she would never again have that much faith in herself or her decisions, but Hope was in a healthier place than she was. _He can accept what's happened. Everything. The good and the bad._

_ I still can't._

"I don't recall you being so confident before," she remarked, half-joking, but realizing she meant every word.

The corner of his lips twitched. "Well, I _did_ lead the Academy. Or have you forgotten that?"

_I guess I did._ _But I didn't know him then. _There was a part-truth to that statement; she'd seen the future then in glimpses, even the futures that had ended up being taken away from the true timeline, but somehow, they'd seemed distant enough that she could never have associated them with the real thing.

"But anyways, they give Fang enough trouble as it is. Now we've got a bunch of them camping around Command headquarters, demanding that Heathrow give them an audience." He smiled grimly at that. "As if she has time for that."

"Fang?" Hope hadn't mentioned the wild, raven-haired woman before, and Lightning felt a small flash of warmth that there was someone else she'd known who was also safe.

"Oh, right, sorry, I forgot to mention that." He scratched the top of his head, ruffling his hair into untidy clumps. "Yeah, Fang and Vanille are fine. Fang joined Intelligence as a Civil Officer—she's supposed to be in charge of keeping the town in line, but well, I'm sure you know those Church people as well as I do, they don't really do as they're told."

Lightning found that she was not entirely surprised by any of what Hope had said. She could imagine it—Fang was probably even enjoying the fact that she got to order the entire town around. She remembered only too well the bandit gang that the woman had commandeered in the desert.

"Anyways, we're here." He pushed open a crude iron gate that led to a house that wasn't unlike her own in Vale. "I bet Fang's going to be excited to see you."

"Hope, wait—"

But whether he hadn't heard her, or whether Hope had chosen to ignore her on purpose, Lightning couldn't tell. In any case, she reflected, as she followed him glumly, she couldn't exactly tell him that she wasn't prepared to meet anyone else. _This entire day's been weird already. Can it get any weirder?_ The whole thing felt almost surreal, and she wasn't sure if he would even understand her reluctance to meet anyone. _Would it even make sense to him?_

Vanille's petite face peeked around the doorframe, orange pigtails curled around her delicate features. Their eyes met for a moment before she let out a delighted squeal. "Fang! Hope's brought you a present!"

Whatever Fang's response was, she didn't catch it. "Sorry," Hope muttered in her ear as she followed him in. "It's been a really long time since we've seen someone we know. You know Vanille."

"So Command gave you guys this place?" she asked, carefully trodding around the subject of familiar faces—it was a delicate subject for her on a good day, and with her nerves already frayed as they were, it was better if she stayed as far away from the subject as possible.

"Yeah," he replied. "Well… they actually offered us two places, one for me, and one for Fang, but Vanille insisted that nobody was going to be left alone." He shrugged, clearly indicating that he'd given in to the bubbly girl.

She'd been about to reply, before Lightning was interrupted by a very loud exclamation from the next room. "Sunshine! I was wondering when you'd show your face!"

Fang had her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot against the floor, wearing a very characteristic grin. "Forgotten about us already?" she cackled.

"Well, excuse me, but you might've noticed it's dangerous out there."

Fang laughed. "As if you've let that stop you before. I thought you'd have beaten up all those monsters out there to find us." She put her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"Fang, don't be silly, that's not safe," Vanille chided daintily. "What about Serah? And Snow? Are they okay?"

Though she felt slightly overwhelmed at the girl's enthusiasm, Lightning could appreciate Vanille's open honesty and earnest concern, and that thought was comforting. It was enough to bring a small smile to her lips. "They're fine."

Vanille made a move towards the kitchen. "Then you _have_ to stay for dinner and tell us about how they're doing!" Without waiting for a reply, she vanished.

Fang rubbed her hands together. "You wouldn't _dare _turn down an offer like that, would you, sweetheart?"

* * *

><p>Head pressed against the cold stone wall of the bathroom, Lightning was glad for her temporary escape from her current company. It wasn't that she <em>wasn't <em>glad to see Fang and Vanille again, it was that their overwhelming enthusiasm was in too much of a contrast with her current internal landscape. The way they spoke about the future made her feel almost sick—in a similar way to how Snow had made her feel so very long ago.

_None of them seem to think I made a mistake. That's a good thing, isn't it?_ She felt stupid trying to convince herself of the thought.

Trying to escape her escalating headache, she found little relief where she was. Though the cool temperature of the wall was comforting and soothed her throbbing temples, the tiny bathroom made her feel trapped. She'd never been a fan of small places, and although she wasn't claustrophobic by the definition of the word, she preferred places where she had enough room to hear herself think.

Pressing a hand to the side of her temples, she caught the sound of conversation of the room she'd just mercifully left.

"By the way she's dressed, I'm assuming she didn't come with the official entourage." It was Fang's voice.

"No she didn't." Hope sounded defeated and his voice was quieter than hers. "She just about bit my head off when I asked her why."

She heard a snort from Fang. "Didya tell her how stupid she was being?"

"No, of course I didn't, Fang!" he protested. "I don't know, I don't think she's trying to be _difficult_ or anything… I just think she doesn't want to." He continued, talking over Fang's _hrrmph._ "Light doesn't do things for no reason—you know that."

Making out the sound of footsteps, Lightning imagined Fang taking several steps closer to Hope, possibly poking a finger at his chest. "But you _are_ going to convince her, aren't you? This is insane—the one person who could probably make all those nutters on the streets shut up and go do something useful is grubbing around the dirt like some common worker, and _you're letting her do it_?"

"Fang, it's not that easy, and you know it," Hope argued back, raising his voice. "She's not a kid that we can order around. Lightning can think and act for herself, and if she really doesn't want to join Command, we can't force her. You're not being fair to her," he continued in a quieter voice. "There's probably something else going on that we don't understand."

"I know what _I_ don't understand," Fang countered. "It's the fact that she could be helping us out, but she's just taking a side seat. Doesn't she care about what happens to this place?"

"I don't think anybody thinks that," Vanille piped up. "Maybe she just thinks she'll be more helpful if she doesn't do anything?"

There was a long pause.

"Well, whatever, I don't care. What I _do_ care about is that you're going to change her mind." Fang sounded more indignant than annoyed and Lightning could almost see it in her head: the raven haired woman squared up against the taller Hope. "Got it?"

"Why are you leaving this up to me again?" Hope sounded resigned to his task already.

She heard another snort from Fang. "Why do you think, kiddo? You've got a—actually, never mind. If you can't figure out why I've delegated this task to you, then you're just as hopeless as she is." Footsteps signalled that the raven haired woman was walking away. "Oh, and Vanille, when Sunshine comes back, you better show her where she's sleeping."

"Yes boss!"

Lightning found that her back was pressed to the stone wall as she tried to sort out her thoughts. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't surprised at Fang's reaction—she hadn't expected her to be pleased with her decision, but Hope had been right. _It's my choice. Not hers. _

Although, she wasn't one hundred percent sure she agreed with his evaluation of her either. _Did I really bite his head off?_ _He _did_ say he wanted to talk…_ But so far, she hadn't heard any indication of said conversation. _Maybe he was hoping to drag me to Fang so she could yell at me. _Even though she thought she knew him far too well to know that he wasn't that type of person, Lightning found the familiar sense of paranoia creeping up on her again.

_And what exactly was Fang talking about, when she said… Hope's got a what? _Somehow, she didn't think she wanted to know the answer to that question.

_Well, whatever. I'll just stay here for the few days I need to, then go home. _She didn't want to give Fang more opportunities to "chew her out", as the black-haired woman would've put it.

* * *

><p>As her luck turned out, though, she <em>would <em>have no such luck. Hope had stopped her empathetically by the door the following morning, just as she'd opened it, revealing a drizzly and grey day in stark contrast to the day before. "I have somewhere to show you."

"Can't this wait?" she protested, wondering if it was even worth her time to argue back.

"No." The deadpan reply came from Fang, who was halfway down the small flight of stairs.

She glared at the woman for a second before turning back to Hope. "I have work to do. And don't _you_ have work?"

"I don't have to go today," he explained sheepishly.

"Please sweetheart," Fang interjected from behind him, "It's not like you actually need the pitiful amount of money you'll get anyways."

Unable to argue with him, knowing full well that she would be wasting her efforts to come up with a suitable argument when Fang was ready and waiting with who knew how many rebuttals, she'd agreed. Lightning had made up her mind to say absolutely as little as possible, wherever they were going.

As they delicately stepped into the already-forming puddles of rain, they walked in silence for a long time. She noted that he purposely avoided the avenue where the Order had been yesterday. She coughed once, half passing it off as clearing her throat. "So, where exactly are we going?"

"I just wanted to show you some places. Serah wouldn't forgive you if you didn't do some sightseeing, would she? Besides, we never really got to have our chat from yesterday, so I was sort of hoping to make up for that. Away from Fang," he tacked on as an afterthought.

Lightning decided that now probably wasn't the best idea to let on that she'd overhead their conversation from last night. "Today isn't exactly the epitome of a good day for sightseeing," she replied, glancing up at the sky. Her bangs were already relatively damp, despite the rest of her hair being hidden under the heavy material of her cloak, and her hands were clammy with droplets of water.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "But I figured being outside was better than being in."

"I guess that's true," she admitted, thinking of her own experiences the night before. She decided to cut to the chase. "So what's this 'talk' you want to have?" _Might as well get it over with._

Hope shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, but he didn't reply for a long time. She let him keep his silence—Lightning knew all too well the feeling of being asked a question she wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

They passed what had to be Command; the tall concrete walls topped with barbed wire was very familiar to the sight she knew back home, and he paused for a moment. "Is this where you work?" The question had come naturally, but Lightning found that she didn't regret going back on her earlier decision. Normally, she avoided conversation as much as she could, especially if the person she was talking to was keen on trying to convince her of something she'd been avoiding for the last six months, but this felt different. _More like… talking to Serah, rather than dealing with Snow._

He breathed out slowly before looking up. "Yeah. Sorry," he apologized again, "I never seem to tell you anything until you bring it up."

Lightning found that the comment amused her slightly, although Hope still looked nervous, as he continued. "It's… really not a bad place to work, you know. The person in charge here knows that I used to work for the Academy, and well, some of it's classified, but we're still trying to work out a way to repel the Drasil for good."

She followed his gaze. "So you're in charge of inventing something that's going to get rid of them?"

"Something like that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Then why were you at the digging site yesterday? That hardly sounds like a suitable site for a researcher."

He shifted his weight awkwardly. "Well, I was actually there to see how it was coming along, because I _do_ go through the things you guys dig up in case it's something I've never seen before… Can you blame me if I said I got distracted?"

Lightning snorted quietly, half to herself. "So how are you going to explain getting 'distracted' to your superior?"

"Light, Aescia Heathrow isn't like that," he explained. Catching her confused expression, he started walking again as they rounded the corner, heading towards the opposite side of town from the digging corner. "Right, you don't know who she is. She's the one who heads Command here in Southtown. Before, she worked as part of the police forces in Academia, and after that, she was part of security in Yusnaan. You might've met her before. But anyways," he continued, "She's a very formidable person and believes wholeheartedly in a future for humanity. She believes that we can defeat the Drasil and that we can move forwards, despite everything that's happened."

"You admire that," she observed.

"Well, yes," he admitted. "You know, Fang didn't want to work for Command either at first. She said she'd rather eat dirt than work for some officers in pretty uniforms. But then she met Colonel Heathrow. It's refreshing, to meet someone who is as committed to creating a new future as you are."

"So you're trying to sell her to me as someone I should meet too?" she asked plainly. "Right."

Hope looked frustrated. "No, I'm not. I'm just saying, she's not a bad person. Obviously I can't speak for anyone who might've tried to convince you to join them before, but I promise you that she's not that kind of person."

Lightning didn't reply, just continued to follow him as the drizzle lightened up a little, turning into a fine mist. It was awhile before Hope spoke again. "I really didn't mean it that way," he repeated. "It's just… a little hard to accept that you're not willing to help." His voice dropped lower as he continued. "You asked me why Aescia wasn't going to get mad at me for yesterday, and it's because she's very keen to get new people to help with the cause." He ploughed on, not giving her a chance to reply. "I did mention that I knew you," he confessed, "but she isn't interested in what you think she is." He took a breath. "She's not interested in turning you into a mascot or anything, you know. She genuinely wants your opinion and your input on how we can continue this fight."

She stared at him for a full few heartbeats before replying. "I already gave you my answer. It's not changing anytime soon."

"Fine," he agreed, after a lengthy pause, his tone carefully neutral.

But it almost wasn't enough that he'd agreed to stop, but searching for a stronger termination was almost futile. Lightning struggled to contain her emotions—she understood that Hope probably had no direct intentions to harm her, but she also knew Fang had put him up it, and she had to admit it wasn't exactly his fault he didn't understand.

_But it still stands that you don't get why I can't help. I'm terrified. Terrified of messing up when this whole damn world is already messed up enough as it is. I can't solve people's problems for them anymore._

But admitting that underneath it all she was scared, was useless. _Who is that going to help?_

They didn't speak until Hope reached the outskirts of the town, on the opposite side of the digging site they'd been at yesterday. It was chillier here, and she shivered, but she could see why Hope had picked this specific spot. Now that the rain had stopped, and the dense fog had cleared somewhat, she could see all the way across to the narrow mountain path that led away from Southtown, and the surrounding peaks.

There was a circle of stones that was nestled in the centre of the grassy hillside, shaded by a tree that was just beginning to grow green leaves again. Hope leaned against one of them, his gaze travelling, before he spoke again.

"Sorry… I didn't want to bring this up in town." He turned to face her, a strange intensity in his green eyes. "But now that we've met again… I've always wanted to ask." He took a breath, before letting it out slowly. "Is this the world you imagined we'd make?"

Lightning was so surprised at his unexpected question that she didn't have an immediate reply ready for him, her thoughts still dwelling on their earlier topic of conversation. "No," she finally said. "I… thought our troubles would be over. That this would be somewhere peaceful."

"Me too," Hope agreed quietly. "You'd think that after everything, we wouldn't have to deal with this." He paused for a few moments. "Do you regret it?"

She looked up at him, trying to search through his expression. "Regret what?"

He didn't hesitate this time. "Choosing our world."

Lightning found that the tumultuous surge of emotions that the simple sentence brought were almost too much to handle, and it took some effort to remain upright and not to bring her arms across her chest, as though the action might alleviate some of the pain that the three words seemed to carry. She thought briefly about lying—but really, it wouldn't benefit anyone. _If I can't be honest with Hope about this, who _can_ I be honest with? _"Sometimes." She pressed her hands against the sides of her nose, trying to steady her breathing before she continued. "Sometimes, I look at everything that's happened, and I wonder if things would've been better if Bhunivelze created our world instead. Then maybe…"

"Would that be worth it?" The gentle question was searching in a way that reminded her of their final meeting before their previous world had collapsed. "He wanted us to become mindless, emotionless dolls trapped in his eternity, where we'd have no memories of anything that made us who we were." Out of the corner of her eye, Lightning saw him tighten his hands into fists. "I haven't forgotten, you know."

She didn't need to ask him what he was referring to—because there was no way she would ever forget that moment either. "Me neither," she murmured. _Because at that moment, that was when I knew for certain his world would never work. Humans were meant to have emotions and meant to remember everything that's happened. We're defined by the people we meet—by the people we love and the people who love us._

"So… because of that, I've never regretted what we did," Hope said simply. "Because I knew he was wrong. So no matter what, I know we have to make this world work for us."

Lightning allowed herself a small smile of acknowledgment. _I never expected anything different from you._ She expected him to also continue his earlier efforts to try to recruit her into his "cause", as he'd put it, but he didn't. Instead, he turned around, touching his hand to the cold surface of the stone.

It was a long time before he spoke again.

"You know, we made this a memorial to the first victims of the Drasil here," he explained. "We thought there wouldn't be any more casualties after that."

Lightning closed her eyes for a few heartbeats—she could imagine it. There was a heavy sadness to his voice, and there was no doubt in her mind that Hope regretted at least not being able to save the victims of the Drasil. "Not everything can be solved simply," she said quietly, thinking of every single problem they'd ever encountered in their struggle to create their future. "And sometimes, when we try to make things right, we end up making mistakes too."

_That can't possibly be any closer to the truth._

"I know." Hope's voice was subdued too. "But that doesn't mean we should stop trying. If we all gave up like those Order people, who're just waiting for the end, we'd never move forward."

She looked at him, suddenly wondering he _did_ understand her reluctance, before he continued. "That's why… I really wish you could help us, Light." He left it at that, and didn't elaborate, instead falling into silence.

They stood in silence for awhile, watching the wind shift the fog around the grey peaks. A thin rain had begun to fall again, dotting the green grass underfoot with droplets of cold water.

He'd sounded sincere enough; at least, there would be no doubt that Hope _did_ genuinely want her help, and nothing more. But her reservations would not let her go, even if she'd wanted them too—everytime she thought about agreeing, her older misgivings crept up on her like the Drasil, stalking the darkness, waiting for a moment to pounce.

_But in some way, he's right. Bhunivelze was wrong. So that has to make our world right… just like there could only be one correct timeline. _

Lightning let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'll… think about it, okay? No promises."

The ghost of hope in his emerald gaze turned into the real thing, and for the first time since they'd met again, she saw him really smile. "Okay."

She snorted. "I still haven't gotten used to looking up at you, you know."

The comment made him chuckle. "I _am_ technically older than you," he reminded her. "I wasn't stuck somewhere where there wasn't time for five hundred years."

She opened her mouth to reply when she was cut off by the sudden sound of blaring sirens. The line to Hope's jaw tightened as he suddenly tensed. "What?"

"Nothing good," he replied before springing into action, breaking into a hasty run that she could only follow as he left the grassy hillside back into town.

"_What_?" she repeated, only for him to point at the nearby peaks.

"That," he said tersely, without breaking his stride. "The rain would've put out all the fires we set yesterday, which means—"

He didn't have to completely finish his sentence for her to know what he was talking about, or to spot the growing dark shapes that had emerged from the dense fog.


End file.
